I'm Tired
by Scared Swan
Summary: 'And it hurts that I can't be what everyone wants, or anyone needs. And it hurts that I can't be what I want, or what I need, because I'm not enough and I won't be enough and I'll never be close to enough. And I'm just so damn tired.'


**This is based on two posts over on Tumblr (my blog /tagged/fic:-I'm-Tired). They hurt and sparked my interest. I hope you like it!**

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She finds him sitting in the woods, his knees pulled up to his chest, his hands buried in his mess of curls, his shoulders shaking. He's a sight for sore eyes, after months of isolation. Not that it hasn't done her good, but she has missed her friends. Missed _him_.

He looks wrecked, his clothes torn, his entire posture changed from 'I'm the King' to someone lost and completely destroyed by the world around him. She aches for him. And right there she makes the decision to go to him. To give up her hiding spot in favour of him.

She steps out from behind the tree. A twig snaps, he doesn't move. She moves closer gently, making sure to make noise so he can push her back if he wants to. She did leave him all those months ago. She wouldn't blame him. "Bellamy?" she asks gingerly, crouching down in front of him. His hands only tighten in his hair, and Clarke briefly wonders if maybe he's eaten bad nuts again. "Hey, what's wrong?"

He still doesn't look up, but he mutters something. "I'm never going to be enough, am I?"

Clarke sinks on the forest floor in front of him, whatever strength she had in her leaving her at his heartbroken words. Tears form in her eyes, because she had never heard such defeat and weariness in his voice. In all those months on the Ground, during everything they've been through, he had never looked so tired. She opens her mouth but no sound comes out. He continues talking anyway.

"I can never be what everyone wants, I can't be what anyone needs, and it hurts. It hurts that I can't even be what _I_ want, or what I need. Because it won't be enough, _I_ won't be enough, I'll never be close to enough. And I'm so tired of not being enough." She can hear the pain in his voice, the tears that streak down his cheeks she doesn't even have to see to know that they're there.

"Bellamy, what are you talking about?" she chokes out, wiping her eyes and then placing her hands on his on his head.

"I wasn't enough for you. I wanted to be there for you, to be enough for you to stay. And I wasn't. I wanted to be enough for the kids, to be the one to heal them. But I'm not a doctor, you are. I wasn't enough for them either. I'm not even enough for Octavia. My little sister, all grown up without me there."

Crying in earnest now, Clarke uncurls her legs from under her and pushing them between his, scooting close enough to press her forehead against his. His hands finally fall away from his hair, resting limply on his knees as he breathes out a slow exhale, his eyes closing. She takes his face between her hands, her forehead pressed against his in reassurance. She wants to say so much to him; she has a thousand apologies to make and no idea where to start. But just as she opened her mouth to start, he grabbed her hands, squeezing them tightly against his cheeks. Without opening her eyes, she feels his eyes clenching before he relaxes completely into her touch. And she knows that he knows. She knows that he forgives her. Knows that he will always forgive her. "You'll always be enough for me, Bellamy. You're so much more than I deserve and I couldn't ask for a better friend, a better partner in leadership, a better man, than you."

"Then why'd you leave?" he whispers.

"Because I wasn't enough. Not for me, not for the kids. I needed to find myself again. You were enough, and you will _always_ be more than enough."

He presses his forehead harder against his, taking a deep breath. "Please come home." he whispers.

If she was thinking about leaving again, all that goes out the window instantly with the way he says it. A _plea_. And the emotion behind it was so much stronger than his words. "Yes, I'll come home."

They sit on the forest floor for a while after that, his legs pressing against hers, holding each other tightly as they silently reacquaint themselves with each other's touch and presence. Honestly, it's like she's never left. He feels the same in every way, albeit a bit older. His presence is still calming to her, and his hair is just as soft (it is a bit longer though, and she wonders if he'd let her cut it off again). She pulls her fingers softly through his curls, and he tilts his head, a small groan coming from the back of his throat like he's enjoying it.

"I'm glad you're back." he whispers later, when she lies snuggled against his side in his tent.

She places her hand over his heart and smiled up at him through the semi-dark. "Me too."

"Please don't leave again."

Almost crying again, she kisses his cheek and sighs as she buries herself in his embrace again. "I won't."

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